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<title>raised on her wings; carried in his arms by winter_hiems</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26302219">raised on her wings; carried in his arms</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_hiems/pseuds/winter_hiems'>winter_hiems</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>L'Homme qui rit | The Man Who Laughs - Victor Hugo, The Grinning Man - Philips &amp; Teitler/Grose &amp; Morris &amp; Philips &amp; Teitler/Grose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blind Character, Canon Disabled Character, Carrying, Chronic Pain, Domestic Fluff, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Flying, Intimacy, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Touching, Wing Grooming, Wingfic, canon blind character, soft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:34:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,002</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26302219</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_hiems/pseuds/winter_hiems</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwynplaine only ever lets Dea groom his wings.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dea/Gwynplaine | Grinpayne | Gwynplaine Trelaw</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>raised on her wings; carried in his arms</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>‘Gwynplaine was… the husband, winged and resplendent. Where the multitude saw the monster, Dea recognised the archangel.’ – The Man Who Laughs, Book 2, Chapter III.</p><p>‘Dea was his dream. She seemed a vision scarcely embodied… in her shoulders, on which might have been invisible wings… she was almost an angel, and yet just a woman.’ – The Man Who Laughs, Book 2, Chapter IV.</p><p>‘Gwynplaine and Dea were, as we have already seen, Providence to each other. He felt himself raised on her wings; she felt herself carried in his arms.’ – The Man Who Laughs, Book 2, Chapter X.</p><p>‘[Dea:]“Gwynplaine, I dreamt that we were animals, and had wings.”<br/>“Wings; that means birds,” murmured Gwynplaine.<br/>“Fools! It means angels,” growled Ursus.”’ – The Man Who Laughs, Book 4, Chapter II.</p><p>‘“I always knew that [Gwynplaine] had wings.”’ – Dea, The Man Who Laughs, Book 6, Chapter II</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dea didn’t spread her wings often. It was too much of a risk that she’d hit something by accident and hurt herself, so they stayed folded up behind her most of the time. According to Gwynplaine her wings were white (like snow, like cotton). When they hugged, he would brush his fingers over Dea’s feathers, and Dea would reciprocate.
</p><p>
Gwynplaine had told her that his wings had dark brown feathers, and from the way they felt when Dea groomed them, his wings were bigger than hers, more muscular because they saw more use. Unlike her, he could afford to move them not just when he flew, but casually as well.
</p><p>
Unlike her, he could fly. If Dea wanted to walk about then she only needed to use a cane, or find Mojo, or have Gwynplaine or Ursus guide her, and no danger would come to her. Flying, however, was impossible. There would be no way for Dea to tell how high up she was, and holding out a cane to check if she was about to hit something wouldn’t be possible, because she’d be going too fast to stop herself. A couple of times Gwynplaine had picked her up and flown, which had been exhilarating, but they hadn’t stayed in the air for long. Despite what a lot of romance plays would claim, carrying someone and flying at the same time wasn’t easy, so it had been more like a controlled glide.
</p><p>
Dea stayed on the ground with her wings tucked close to her back. Of course, Gwynplaine and Ursus did this a lot as well; there wasn’t enough room in the Green Box for anyone to spread their wings fully, even if they were sighted.
</p><p>
Gwynplaine himself did not fly often. He didn’t like being so far away from Dea, in a place she couldn’t reach. Still, he enjoyed the sensation of it, so he flew regularly enough to keep his wings strong and no more frequently than that.
</p><p>
Besides, his wings weren’t always in good shape. All he needed was one really bad nerve attack and they’d go shooting out, and knock into who-knows-what. If he was lucky he’d only get bruises, but if he wasn’t then once the attack was over he’d come round to see Ursus bandaging one or both of his wings. He hadn’t done any serious damage to himself yet, but that was more through luck than anything else; wing bones were delicate mechanisms, as Ursus was wont to remind him.
</p><p>
In spite of the occasional bruises, Gwynplaine did love his wings. The way they felt when he stretched out. He especially loved how close they brought him and Dea together.
</p><p>
Most adults could groom their own wings, but he and Dea had never bothered to learn. There was no need to learn when they had each other.
</p><p>
At the beginning of each day, they would sit on stools beside each other, and Gwynplaine would groom Dea’s feathers, then Dea would groom Gwynplaine’s.
</p><p>
It was without question the best part of his morning, Dea’s fingers softly brushing through his feathers, straightening any that might be crooked. Because she couldn’t see them, she did everything by touch, so she’d end up touching every inch of his wings, even the feathers that weren’t out of place. He tended to close his eyes when she groomed his wings, give himself over to the soft tracing of her fingers over his coverts.
</p><p>
Then once she was done, it would be his turn to do Dea’s wings. Gwynplaine was always as gentle as possible, brushing his fingers over the feathers, so silky smooth that he might have been touching heaven. Because he could see the feathers that needed straightening he was always done faster than Dea. It seemed something of a shame.
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>
Gwynplaine fiddled with his cuffs and tried not to panic.
</p><p>
He was dressed in much finer clothing than he’d ever worn before. Even when he was invested as a lord, he’d worn borrowed clothes that hadn’t been made for him, but today everything from his shirt to his coat was tailored. It was comfortable but strange, and he didn’t quite recognise himself in the mirror.
</p><p>
He’d been going without a scarf over his face for so long that it felt strange now to see the Garter of Sussex-Westermere over his face, but he considered it a necessity for today. It was to be his first ever speech in the House of Lords. He couldn’t risk having his face as a distraction as it certainly would be if he left it on show.
</p><p>
Gwyn took a few deep breaths. He didn’t want to be nervous. He was so nervous that his hands were shaking. He supposed that was because the things he’d be announcing in his speech – more rights for the common people, stricter rules for the peers of England – were likely to cause no small uproar in the House of Lords. Angelica would be there to back him up, but that didn’t make the anticipation feel any less electric.
</p><p>
Right now the only thing anchoring him to earth was Dea’s hands neatening up his wings, smoothing the feathers into place so that he was smart enough for Parliament.
</p><p>
He was a lord now, and could have had a servant fix his wings for him, but he would never let anyone other than Dea groom his wings. Many things had changed in the last few weeks, but not that.
</p><p>
When she was done, he turned to face her. “I have to be at Parliament in half an hour. I suppose I can’t delay leaving any longer.”
</p><p>
Dea hugged him close, her head resting just under his chin. Gwynplaine leaned into it, their wings wrapping around each other until they were as close as they could possibly be.
</p><p>
“You’ll be amazing,” she said as she pulled back.
</p><p>
Dea kissed him softly through the cloth over his face, then took his hand as they walked out to announce a bright new future.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The bit in this fic where Gwynplaine talks about how touching Dea’s feathers is like touching heaven is a reference to a bit in The Man Who Laughs when Dea says to Gwynplaine: ‘When you are here, heaven is by my side. Give me your hand, that I may touch heaven.’</p><p>Dea has swan wings because she’s beautiful and ethereal and also a badass. Gwynplaine has eagle wings. Ursus has eagle owl wings.</p><p>Sometimes when I write historical fics, I worry that I’m using terms that the characters wouldn’t know because of the era it’s set in. It turns out that the world ‘electric’ was invented in 1600, so it’s reasonable for Gwynplaine to know it in 1705, especially since Ursus has a wide knowledge of science.</p><p>Comments and kudos are always welcome &lt;3</p><p>Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. I am not making money from this work.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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